Solstice at Newgrange

 

Through the miracle of technology

I watch the shaft of light enter the tomb

some three-thousand miles from my home.

How did the ancients build this wonder?

It gives me pause on this darkest day of the year—

  this reminder to celebrate the sunrise

  to find the bright spot in the darkness.

It speaks to my latent sensibilities

for even as the light fades from the tomb

our days grow longer.

Sunlight and shadows, light and dark;

around us…within us… inherent to us all. 

Old to new, passing down through the ages—

that we can still find hope for the living

   in this tomb for the dead.

© Ginny Brannan 2020

In the Wind

 

A wild wind blows on the hill

to fell the leaves still clinging on

it chases them across the road

and leaves them scattered on the lawn

We are like the fallen leaf

chastened by a feral wind:

spun by gales in tempests tossed

no symmetry, undisciplined.

A voice emerges from the past

it echoes through the barren tree

calling out through rasping gale

to such unworthy progeny.

Yet heartened by this song I hear,

held captive in this solitude;

in its chords my fears are quelled

all stress and pain have been subdued.

I mourn the days of youth, misspent

but in the years that have ensued

there’s not a thing that I’d repent

the cherished friends that I’ve accrued

 

…a wild wind blows upon the hill

    and in its voice I hear you still.

© Ginny Brannan

Image by Charlie Parant at Appetite for Photos. Used with expressed written permission. Thanks, Charlie.